The 13th Warrior's Return
by Antiope
Summary: After almost 16 years, the wendol have resurfaced, and Ahmed 'Ibn' has been asked to return to aid in the fight. Yet there are surprises in store for him...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own and claim no rights to Touchstone Pictures' "The 13th Warrior." This idea has been invented by my insane mind, and all original characters are mine.  
  
*****  
  
Ahmed ibn Fahdlan ibn Alabas ibn Rashid ibn Hammad stared at the messenger before him with a shocked frown. Glancing from the bundle on his table to the messenger, he murmured a quiet, "Where did you get this?"  
  
Hassan blinked confusedly. "From merchants traveling from the North. Apparently they spent a long time searching for whom they called Ibn, or "The Arab." Fortunately one of them spoke Latin and we were able to discover the identity of the recipient as the Ambassador to the North...you. They explained that it was an extremely important matter, otherwise we would have dropped inquiries."  
  
Ahmed lifted from the fur satchel it's only content: a stone figurine of a headless, legless female, wide and voluptuous. "The Mother," he whispered.  
  
Hassan's eyebrows rose in curiosity. "Sir?"  
  
Ahmed looked up and jerked slightly. He had forgotten Hassan was there. "Forgive me. I wish to thank you for bringing me this. Talib will see to it that you are fed and paid for your trouble."  
  
Talib, one of Ahmed's servants moved forward from his place just outside the door and gave a small bow to Hassan, motioning him to follow. Glancing once more to Ahmed, Hassan followed the servant from the room.  
  
Ahmed stood from his seat and approached the open windows, the humid breeze caressing his already flushed face. In his hand he gripped the figure severely, his knuckles white. Memories of what happened so long ago crossed his mind. Absently, he placed his free hand on his face, slowly tracing the three scars still there, but small and faded with time. Sixteen years, sixteen long years since he had viewed the shores of Venden, or the face of Herger, a man he considered a good friend. Over the years he had wondered whether Herger was alive or dead...and he thought of her. Olga. A north woman, born to a primitive and barbaric people, or so he had thought when he first viewed the Northmen. After fighting beside them and shedding blood with them, he saw them in a new light, one filled with honor, and humor.  
  
Now, with the memories of everything he had discovered both in himself, and in the Northmen fresh in his mind, he brought the statue of The Mother up to view it in the morning light. There was no confusion as to what the message was. The wendol have returned to destroy Venden and it's people once again. And someone, Ahmed smiled to himself, most likely Herger, wanted him to return to fight with them.  
  
After so many years, he would return to the north land, but this time it will have not been in shame, essentially exiled by the Caliph. Nor through coercion by Northmen to join their cause. No, this time, it shall be of his own free will and with the clear knowledge that death may very well await him there. Remembering Herger's words to him the first night they fought the Wendol, (where Ahmed subsequently received his three scars) "Your Fate is fixed. Fear profits a man nothing."  
  
He had learned better then to try and argue with Herger. The cocky and jovial Northman only proved his point in the end. Turning, he called a servant to bring him Melchisidek, and prepare suitable travel arrangements.  
  
*****  
  
A/N: Read and Review please! Thank you. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own and claim no rights to Touchstone Pictures' "The 13th Warrior." All non-original characters are beings of my own creation, and similarities to other fics are unintended.

* * *

Ahmed entered the bedchamber of his father's dearest friend, Melchisidek, and crossed to his side. The elderly man smiled up at him, a fatherly pride shining in his eyes. "Ahmed, it is wonderful to see you my boy," he greeted quietly, his voice grating harshly. In the past sixteen years the older man had slowly declined in health, until finally, only a few months ago, he was restricted to his bed. Ahmed smiled at Melchisidek warmly, and bowed in difference to the man that had become like a second father to him.

"Friend of my father," Ahmed greeted back and clasped the gnarled, weak hand, careful not to squeeze to hard.

"You must stay, and join us for the morning meal," Melchisidek invited.

Ahmed shook his head regretably. "No friend, I am sorry. I have business that must be attended to."

"Then you must dine with us tonight, once your business is done," Melchisidek insisted, frowning as Ahmed shook his head once more.

"My business will require me to be gone from Baghdad for a long time. I may never return."

Melchisidek clasped Ahmed's hand tightly. "If you must go, then go with Allah. May he guide your way and bring you back safely."

Ahmed nodded reverently and knelt beside him. "I have come to inform you and your grandson, Hakim, that should I meet God in my travels and never return, I have left what I have to Hakim. I pray that I return, but if I do not, I will know that my family will be upheld with honor."

"Of course," Melchisidek replied, a surprised awe marking his words.

Ahmed stood. "Be well, friend of my father."

"Go with God," Melchisidek said solemnly.

Hakim stood before Ahmed and frowned. "Are you truly sure you know what you are doing?" he asked carefully, after Ahmed informed him of his plans.

"I am aware of the risks," Ahmed answered.

Hakim, though never a member of the court or trained in the ways of nobility, was still a man greatly respected in the halls of the Caliph. He was honorable and deeply religious. "You travel to the land of the north to battle an evil that you have already helped defeat. How can you know if they call you to aid them or not? All you have is a headless figurine that was left at your doorstep. You know nothing of what to expect. The journey to the north has become more hazardous each year, you may never make it to Venden."

Ahmed sighed, and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I must try. I owe these people my life. It is a choice that was already made the moment I was given the statue. I will not leave their call unanswered."

"You are one man. Can one man really turn the tide of evil?"

Ahmed smiled. "One man can try."  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hassan was not normally a patient man, but he stood across from the Ambassador's home, ignoring the vendor that was eyeing him angrily at his intrusion. Since he had delivered the package, his curiousity and adventurous spirit had roared to life. He didn't know exactly what had caused such a reaction from the nobleman, but for some unexplainable reason, he just had to know. A part of him could feel the undertow of something important, something that could change him from the son of a mere peasant, to a man of some standing, maybe not in the palace of the Caliph, but among the wastrels and merchants who felt they were above it all. A servant of a nobleman such as Ahmed ibn Fahdlan was an aspiration no one in the despair torn section of Baghdad that he had the misfortune of being born from had the clout for.

Hassan started in surprise as four horsemen emerged from the Ambassador's courtyard. Without a moment's hesitation, he jumped into action, quickfooting his way to the band of horsemen, nimbly avoiding the traffic of passerbys with a skill of a man who knew the streets. Trotting alongside Ahmed's horse, he bowed meekly at the noble lord, an apologetic smile on his humble face. "Forgive me my lord, but I must speak with you."

Ahmed glanced down in surprise at the boldness of the man, and with an amused smile, nodded his head. "You are the man that brought the message from the north, are you not?"

Hassan blinked, clearly startled at the nobleman's memory of someone such as him, and replied, "Yes, Sahib. I am Hassam ibn Farik, a mere peasant who begs you to take me into your service."

Ahmed frowned. "I have no need for a servant now. I leave Baghdad, possibly forever. If you need work, you may go to the home of Hakim ibn Omar ibn Melchisidek. He is a shipping merchant, who is always in need of a hard worker, and good men."

Hassan bowed, still following the horses along as they trotted down the streets, heading toward the main gate. "I thank you profusely for such an offer for someone as undeserving as myself, but I beg you lord, take me into your service. I will work hard and do my share."

"I journey to a land of great danger. We may never return, and I can not guarantee your safety. It is an arduous journey, one not to be taken into lightly," Ahmed answered impatiently, urging his horse on.

Hassan stopped in his tracks, an indignant scowl on his face. "I am not afraid, Sahib. Courage is not something restricted to soldiers and noblemen."

Ahmed halted his horse abruptedly, causing the horses behind him to move skittishly to the side. He looked back at Hassan, a thoughtful expression mingled with annoyance creasing the lines of his face. He dismounted and handed his reigns to his servant Talib, who had volunteered to accompany him when Melchisidek and Hakim could not join him. He approached Hassan quickly, standing nearly toe to toe with the younger man. "I have seen into the eyes of a man that was not a man. I have smelled the stench of blood and death brought by an evil that was unholy and merciless. Can you say you would not run from an evil that wanted your blood, your flesh to feast upon?"

Hassan swallowed nervously, his eyes wide. "I know not what any man would do when given the choice to face evil, or run from it."

Ahmed nearly snorted and began to turn, only to hesitate as Hassan continued, "But I would like to know, truly, how I would choose. Can a man truly call himself a man if he does not know himself?"

Ahmed stared at the young man before him, considering. Finally, with a resigned smile, he nodded. "We leave now. There is no time for you to say goodbyes to anyone."

Hassan's face broke out into a delighted grin. "I have no one I wish to give my goodbyes to Sahib, I am ready now."

"Are you?" Ahmed asked, amusement evident in his voice. "Come Talib, you will share the burden of our new man."

Talib moved his horse forward and offered a hand to Hassan who accepted it gratefully. With a combined effort, Hassan climbed onto the back of Talib's horse. The group exited through the main gate, Hassan staring intently at everything they past.

"Will you miss it?" Talib asked quietly, concentrating his efforts more on controling his horse.

Hassan looked back at the glimmering capital, seeing it with the memories of his childhood, and the suffering of his past. "No," he replied confidently.

They rode for many months, stopping only when necessary. Once they had traveled through the land of Ogus, Hassan had been given a horse and taught to ride. His curiousity never ceased, and he asked question after question. The only people he didn't seem to annoy with his endless chatter was young Talib, a boy barely in his sixteenth year, and Ahmed, who merely smiled at his inquisitiveness.

When asked where they were going, Talib was the one who answered, happy to end the silence that the other two companions to Ahmed seemed eager to embrace. "We journey to the Tossuk Vlad, a land deep into the north, to a kingdom called Venden."

"I have never heard of such a place," Hassan muttered quietly.

Talib laughed. "Not many have. The northmen are a violent and unpredictable people. They may sup with you one day or kill you the next."

"Why do we travel then, to this Tossuk Vlad?" Hassan asked.

"My lord, Ahmed, many years ago was appointed Ambassador to the Tossuk Vlad, and sent to relay a hand of peace to the barbarians to the north. He speaks only to Sir Melchisidek and Sir Hakim of all that occured on his journey there, but it is said that he joined a heathen tribe to defeat a great enemy. The journey changed him. When he returned he was a different man, nobler, or so my father has told me."

Hassan frowned thoughtfully, and gazed ahead to the front of their line of men. Ahmed was talking quietly with Tazeem, a battle-wizened soldier under Ahmed's employ to guide them to the shores of the north.

That night, as they sat huddled beside a fire, Tazeem informed them of the caravan heading north that they would join. "It is only a day's ride from here, less if we have an early start," Tazeem growled.

"Good Tazeem," Ahmed praised, raising a piece of bread to his lips. He glanced over at Hassan and Talib who were unnaturally silent. Ahmed smiled. To be honest, he admired the young man's spirit. He had joined a cause simply for adventure. Foolhardy, but something that could be admired. "Tell me Hassan, have you ever traveled the lands or the seas?" Ahmed asked, pulling Hassan's attention from the fire.

"No Sahib, I have never left Baghdad," Hassan replied.

"Is it true, then, that you know the Latin tongue?" Ahmed asked.

Hassan brightened. "Yes! I know Latin and a little Greek."

"I take it you are good with foreign tongues. This is good. Where we are going, such a skill is necessary," Ahmed commented. "Listen carefully."

"I will."

They traveled with the caravan further north, and Ahmed could feel the urgency of his situation looming nearer and nearer. He prayed that he was not too late, that Herger's message was not sent in vain. Much could happen in several months. He was brought out of his worrying by a familiar cry.

"TARTARS!"

There was chaos, as the caravan leaders screamed at them to flee. Every man headed toward the main river. Ahmed and his men thundered away, but Ahmed glanced back, the rush of danger bringing back a thrill he hadn't felt in a long time. As they rushed towards the bank of the river, he heard the leaders cry out again, and nearly fell off his horse in relief. Pulled unto shore stood a large longboat, and beside it tents with the pale faced, and fair eyed warriors standing outside of them, looks of entertainment on several faces. The caravan leaders urged the others away, but Ahmed lead his men toward the largest tent, and dismounted.

He was approached by a tale blonde-headed northman who glared at him disapprovingly.

"I am Ahmed ibn Fahdlan ibn Alabas ibn Rashid ibn Hammad. I come on an errand of war, and I need passage to Venden," he told the giant. The man stared at him, pale blue eyes clouded over, before he turned and nodded toward another giant of a man.

"Tell him a man named 'Eban' is here," the blonde giant told the other, who immediately turned and entered the tent.

"No," Ahmed corrected, "my name is Ahmed ibn Fahdlan ibn..." He trailed off at the blank look the northman gave him and closed his eyes in exasperation. "Oh, just forget it."

"Arabe!" a familiar brogue greeted cheerfully.

Ahmed's eyes flew open. At the front of the tent stood a tall red-headed man, dressed in a white tunic with a green and tan clothe across the chest and covering the lower half of his body. Green eyes twinkled with weary amusement and Ahmed rushed forward and clasped hands with the northman.

"Weath!" Ahmed greeted.

"I was beginning to think that you never recieved the package," Weath commented dryily, and moved over to his horse that was tied to a makeshift pole. He turned back to Ahmed and tossed him a sword, laughing as Ahmed staggered under the weight. "Here, you'll need this. My daughter loved the other knife you fashioned."

Chuckling, Ahmed followed the northman into the tent.

* * *

A/N: Okay, I feel like this chapter was terrible, but I had to introduce Hassan and Talib more, because I have plans for those two in this fic. BTW, I added Weath here for you Jessamyn (thanks for your review! ; p) and I plan to get more into the plot and get you the low down on what's going on with Venden in the next couple of chapters. I hadn't given up on this fic, I just have had a lot on my plate, especially with trying to update my breakfast club fic and work (yuck!) so it's been a while since I have been able to even glance at this story. I go on vaca soon, so I might get some glorious idea's while I go visit the 'rents, so wish me luck! Please review, I love suggestions and comments! Or if you want, email me, I'd love to hear from you! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! ) 


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own and claim no rights to Touchstone Pictures' "The 13th Warrior." All non-original characters are beings of my own creation, and similarities to other fics are unintended. Enjoy...  
**

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Hassan clutched the railing in a death grip, his stomach rolling. The waves continued to pound against the sides of the longboat, a craft that had recently become a vessel of torture for the young man. His only saving of face was that the others in his party were under similar circumstances. Ahmed was weathering the storm well, but even he was feeling the effects of the sea. They had been sailing for many days, and the memory of land was beginning to fade from Hassan's mind. The only memory he seemed to recall now was the deep blue of the water, now inky black and threateningly violent. Waiting several seconds to ensure that his stomach would settle enough, he sank to the floor next to the heap that Talib had become. The poor young boy was huddled in a fetal position and his olive skin tone had paled to a dull gray.

"Are you alright?" Hassan asked quietly. The only response he received was an anguished moan. "I guess not."

"Don't worry boys," Ahmed called over the roar of the winds. "This will soon be over and we will be deep in the Northland."

Hassan nodded slowly, praying for land once again. The young man looked over his shoulder staring in amazement at the four men gathered at the rear of the longboat. Weath, the northman of Ahmed's acquaintance stood at the back, a piece of meat in one hand, and the rudder in the other. The red haired northman's laughter could be heard over the roaring of the wind and rain. Three other northmen stood around him, each telling a tale of their deeds and howling in laughter. Hassan shook his head. It amazed him how nonchalant these men were even in the face of peril. Even though they seemed at home at sea, the storm that raged was dangerous, but they still talked on, almost detached from their fear. Hassan had heard many tales at the docks of North ruthlessness and bloodlust. Yet for all their intimidating strength, the northmen had shown them no hatred or even tried to hurt them.

Even as such thoughts played through Hassan's mind, he watched a black haired northman move in his direction, two bowls in his hands. Curling into a ball, the young man stared back at the northman as he offered a bowl to him. Hassan shook his head quickly, but the northman motioned for him to take the bowl, impatience making his features turn harsh. Grudgingly, Hassan accepted the bowl, then yelped in pain as the bowl seemed to be on fire.

The northman's lips twisted into a small smile. "Hot," he warned, albeit too late.

"Thanks for the warning," Hassan mumbled angrily and put the bowl beside Talib's limp form and cradled his throbbing hands.

Without another word, the northman continued to Ahmed, and handed him the last bowl. Ahmed smiled his thanks, and took the bowl, using the ends of his robe to grasp it. As Edgtho took a seat beside him, Ahmed made quick work of his stew.

They sat in comfortable silence while Ahmed ate, and the Arab was grateful for the man's company. When he had discovered that Edgtho had sailed with Weath to await his return he had been pleased. Edgtho had been one of the men in his previous journey that he had connected with as a true friend. Though the man was quiet and could appear intimidating, Ahmed was comfortable around him.

"Interesting men you travel with," Edgtho commented stoically.

Ahmed glanced over at the two youths and smiled. "Yes, I agree."

"They remind me of when we first met," came the quick reply. "There is hope then."

Ahmed laughed. "Yes, there is."

Silently, Edgtho rose to his feet and nodded to his companion. Ahmed watched as he headed to the front of the longboat and joined several men. Edgtho never said a word, declining to join the conversation, just listened and smiling when he thought something was funny. Ahmed closed his eyes and listened to the roar of the winds and the laughter. It reminded him of a time so long ago, when he had joined a similar band of Northmen. Their faces drifted through his consciousness, faces of friends and several who had long since entered the gates to their Valhalla. An agonized whimper interrupted his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to see Hassan helping Talib lean over the side of the boat. The sound of the youth being sick only made Ahmed think back to sixteen years ago. The young man he was then seemed leagues away from the man he had become.

He shook his head. He would protect those two boys and help them to grow into men. If they were going to survive what was to come, they would have no choice.

* * *

Hassan moved to the front of the boat, and shivered. The chill in the air seemed to sink into his very bones but he did his best not to show it. The silence of the men around him gave him pause. Their was a stillness to the air, and every man's eyes were into the thick mist that had covered the water.

"ODIN!"

He jumped, and nearly let out a cry, but Ahmed put a hand out and motioned him to be silent. A flaming arrow flew through the air and was swallowed by the ghostly mist.

"ODIN!"

Talib staggered forward, his eyes squinting into the mist. "My lord?" he asked softly, as a dark form appeared in the haze. "What…?"

"LAND!" a deep voice boomed, causing the two youths to cringe in fear.

Ahmed turned the youths toward the midsection of the boat and bent to rummage through his pack. He removed two long objects from within and handed them to the boys. "Take these, and become familiar with them. They could save your life."

Hassan removed the sword from it's sheath and stared at it in stunned fascination. Talib could only brace it's weight in his hands and clutch it to his breast in shock.

Ahmed motioned to the swords, "Did you really think we came all this way to admire the scenery?"

The two younger men shared a glance. Hassan replaced the sword in it's home and proceeded to hook it to his belt, Talib following suit much slower and with obvious reluctance. Their leader nodded his head in approval.

"Gather our supplies and horses," Ahmed instructed. "Once we get the longboat ashore we must travel inland into the heart of Venden."

Talib scrambled forward and began collecting all their supplies, while Hassan went to gather the horses. When they were all ashore they mounted. Hassan clutched the handle of his sword and waited as Talib struggled to get onto his horse. Weath called for silence as Edgtho appeared from his scouting mission.

"We have been received by Held, herald to the King," he informed them.

"Good. That means that bastard hasn't cast the others out," Weath growled angrily.

"What do you mean?" Ahmed asked as Weath led the band of men inland.

"Wigliff became king ten years ago when King Hrothgar died. The bastard has tried to force those of us who stayed behind to rebuild to leave. He calls himself a true king of northmen."

"King, bah," a warrior named Helvaldr scoffed, disgusted. "He is a thief and a coward."

"King Hrothgar knew that if Wigliff became king he would destroy everything his fathers built, so he tried to place Prince Wolfgar above his older brother," Weath told Ahmed. "He convinced his warriors to champion the boy, but before the oaths could be taken, Prince Wolfgar died from a sudden illness, and King Hrothgar followed him not long after."

"Prince Wigliff," Ahmed murmured. A man he had no desire to reacquaint himself with. "Anything else I need to know?"

Weath stared intently at Ahmed and smiled. "Everything will be made known soon enough Ibn. Everyone's fate is fixed, even yours."

"How comforting," Ahmed murmured.

* * *

**A/N:** I feel like this chapter could have been better, but the chapter that I began was lost when my computer decided to delete things because it was crashing… So this is the chapter as best as I could remake it, and I had to cut it short. I plan to have the next chapter up soon. Tell me what you think, and I will hopefully have the next chapter up next week. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own and claim no rights to Touchstone Pictures' "The 13th Warrior." All non-original characters are beings of my own creation, and similarities to other fics are unintended.**

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**

The light from the numerous torches hanging around the large cave room shone brightly on the scene of blood and gore. Inhuman screams and roars mingled with the wails of terror coming from the three young girls in the center of a circle of onlookers. Woman and men covered in dirt, blood and animal skins pushed the girls back and forth around the circle, delighting in their fear and the crazed look that contorted their faces into masks of agony and the knowledge that death was near.

High above them, on a ledge surrounded with large boulders to create a makeshift cage, seven girls stared down at the atrocity with resigned expressions of defeat. The sounds below grew in volume, and several of the girls clutched each other, whimpering.

Suddenly, no sound but the wails from the three could be heard, and the circle of bear-skin clad creatures expanded until the three terrified girls stood at the center of the large arena. Two large men, on opposites sides of the room from each other pushed through the crowd, barely acknowledging the grunts of difference those around them gave. When they reached the girls, they had men from the crowd hold their arms and with a claw from around their neck cut a gash into their arm. With twin roars , the two warriors returned to their places outside the circle, on several rocks that gave them a view of the battle about to begin.

Three female creatures from the crowd slunk forward on bent legs, their faces and bodies colored with paint and blood. Circling the three girls, they hissed and swiped at them, their wails adding to the rapture on their tormentors' faces.

The seven girls above it all could only look as their friend's screams filled the cavern, only to change several moments later into gurgles of blood and gasps of pain. Then, all that followed was silence. With a look at the two warriors that watched the carnage above them, those in the circle roared in triumph and flew onto the near lifeless girls with abandon.

Unna, one of the remaining captured endured the grip of Sefa, the youngest of them and watched the death of Theoun, Soma, and Asborg until her eyes could not withstand it. The huddled girls all moved away from the edge and moved to the center of their prison, whimpers of fear and despair joining the noise of ecstasy from below. Unna's stomach rolled, and if she had anything more than her own bile to spew, she knew she would have. They had all been captured four days earlier, most from the last raid of Venden's walls, some from the outlying farms and homesteads that were no match for the monsters that came in the night. Out of thirteen, only they seven remained. Unna squeezed young Sefa's arms soothingly, and hummed quietly to them all.

One of the girls, Yrsa stood up and began to walk toward the lower level of the ledge that lead into the common area. Two guards flanked the opening, each holding a large spear. Unna released Sefa and followed after her, stopping the girl just before she could attempt to step outside their cage and into certain death.

"Yrsa, what are you doing?" Unna demanded, pulling the girl around. Her friend's eyes were glassy and seemed to look straight through her. Unna shook her lightly to force the girl out of her madness.

"If they are to kill us, what is the point in trying to live? I would rather die now then endure this waiting," Yrsa panted franticly. She tried to jerk her arms out of Unna's hold, but the older girl held on tightly. The others wept even louder at Yrsa's comment and Unna shushed them quietly.

"We are not going to die, do you hear me," she said loudly. "Do not make them get crazed with fear, we must be strong," Unna whispered fiercely to Yrsa.

"I want this to be over," Yrsa screamed.

The resounding slap that followed made all the girls silent. Yrsa stared at Unna with disbelief, her hands covering her cheek protectively while Unna tried to control her angry breathing. "If," Unna began, "we are to survive this, we must stick together. We can not give in to our fears. Do you understand?"

Staring at each girl in turn, she waited until all agreed. A sound at the entrance of their prison had the girls flying to the far edge of the ledge. A large beast of a man stomped into their holding area, with a female not far behind him. The female threw two large chunks of meat at their feet, while the male tossed an animal skin at them, that they recognized as a water skin. In one beefy hand he held a torch that he thrust into the ground and then he and the female left as quickly as they had come.

Cautiously the girls moved away from the edge and approached their captures' offering. With sighs of relief several of them grabbed for the water skin first, while Unna and Sefa stood beside the bloody meat.

"They are feeding us, finally after all this time," Sefa whispered.

Unna turned away from the offering and began tearing into her underskirt. "We have to get a fire going to cook this meat," she said quietly, keeping her back to the group so they couldn't see her revulsion.

Yrsa was the first to notice Unna's behavior. Slowly she walked toward the girl, her mind reeling at the knowledge she didn't want to believe. "This food they give us…it is not--"

"It is food," Unna replied sharply, "that is all we need to know." She grabbed the torch and turned to the girls. "Now we need to get this fire started."

She started at her work, while the other girls stared at the two pieces of meat in horror.

* * *

The group pushed forward from the forest and Ahmed gazed in wonder at the difference of sixteen years on the budding kingdom. Many more homes dotted the hillside, and people stood outside tending their homes. As they passed the people stopped what they were doing to stare, uneasy whispers following them up the large hill that at the top stood the fortified structure of King Wigliff's castle. It had undergone many repairs and additions over the years which turned the hall of Ahmed's memory into a shadow of what it had become. The wooden spikes that surround it were a deadly and poignant reminder of the mission they were all on, as several men were still pulling the bodies of their dead and a few enemy carcasses from the wall.

They passed through a tall gate and entered the courtyard where they were greeted by several armor clad warriors. Weath motioned the others to be still and urged his horse forward. An older man moved away from the ranks of men surrounding them and approached Weath, his expression grim.

"Welcome home my friends," he greeted amiably, though his face was less than welcoming.

"Ulfied, old friend, it is good to see you again," Weath greeted back, his eyes following the line of men, a grin on his face. "Are you going to tell me what your grand king has ordered now?"

Ulfied grimaced before his face returned to its seemingly normal expression of unhappiness. "I am to escort you to see the King," he replied gruffly. "He insists that he meet with all of you as soon as you arrive."

"And of course the King must never be kept waiting," a new voice called out mockingly.

The men on the ground parted as a boy strode toward the men on horseback. The armored men bowed as he walked passed, but he ignored them all and joined Ulfied. Weath dismounted and motioned the others to do so as well. The northmen in Ahmed's party all bowed to him, while he, Hassan, Talib and Tazeem watched in silence.

"Prince Munolfr," Weath greeted.

"You have returned finally," Prince Munolfr replied. "Much has happened while you were gone."

"Who is this Prince Munolfr?" Ahmed asked quietly to Egtho.

"He is…King Wigliff's…son," Egtho answered back stiltedly.

Ahmed looked at the boy with a critical eye. The boy had long black hair tied back by a leather strap. He appeared lean, but strong, his arms and thighs bunched with muscle and hiding the agility of a jungle cat, Ahmed had no doubt. The respect the men gave the young prince was enough to convince Ahmed that whatever sins his father was guilty of, this boy was honorable and worthy. Dark blue eyes met his curious brown gaze and hardened into a cold stare.

"Many more of our women have been taken the past two months. We have ordered that the remaining farm and homesteads be abandoned and many are traveling here now for the safety of the castle," Munolfr informed them, his icy gaze never leaving Ahmed. It made the older man nervous.

"The King waited to long," Weath said angrily, "he should have called for the people to come here when we left."

One of the men that surrounded them stepped forward, the blade at his side pulled from it's sheath. He pointed it at Weath and made to charge, but a sharp word from Prince Munolfr stopped the man in his tracks. The prince pulled his own sword out and brandished it in the soldier's direction. "Save your anger for the next battle, we need all the warriors we can get," he told him with icy fury that had the other man scrambling back into ranks in fear.

Prince Munolfr replaced his blade and bide Weath and the others to follow him. "Come, Ulfied and I will take you to greet the King."

They all followed as the Prince led the way into the Great Hall. The people that littered the room ceased their conversations the moment they appeared, all but one man who seemed oblivious to their entrance.

"We know where their new lair is, all we need is a few men to go forward and attack. There is still a chance that we can save some of the women taken, if only you would agree--" the blonde northman who's face was normally jovial and excited was now twisted with frustration.

"If you wish to pull men into a mission of death, that is your problem, but I refuse to use perfectly good soldiers that are needed here to help you die," interrupted the sandy haired man seated at the throne. "Besides Herger, we all know you only wish to do this because your beloved daughter is among the women captured. Feeling guilty that you left her alone to fend for herself are we?" the King taunted.

"I left my daughter in the care of your men here at the castle because I believed she would be safe. It was my mistake to trust a cowa--" Herger fired back angrily.

"What is that? How dare you!" King Wigliff yelled at Herger as he shot up from his throne, his face turning a deep purple.

"Sire," Prince Munolfr called loudly.

"What?!?" the King roared, turning to the entrance.

"Here stands the hero Weath, son of Weagunnr returned from across the sea to join us in honorable battle," Ulfied announced.

"So," King Wigliff began, his pointed face breaking out in a sneer, "you finally returned to us, have you? Well there now Herger, your little group of misfits is back. Maybe you will get them to agree to your little plan. After the work on the outlying defenses is completed, of course."

Wigliff laughed happily at this. Glancing over the group standing at the entrance, he noticed Ahmed and his party for the first time. "Well is this not a pleasant surprise? The Arab has returned. Come to fight with your great friends again? How kind. Munolfr," the King called.

"Yes sire?" Munolfr answered grudgingly.

"See to it that the Arab and his three friends are given accommodations, and have all these men fed. Call your mother to see to their meal. We must not let them go into battle without a last meal," Wigliff chuckled. Still laughing to himself the King left the room, three guards trailing behind him.

"Ulfied call my mother and grandmother to the Hall to see to our guests," Munolfr ordered.

"But the Queen--" Ulfied protested quietly.

"I am aware of the problem, but the King has ordered her to see to their meal. Call my mother and grandmother to the hall," Munolfr interrupted impatiently.

"Little Brother!!" a shout broke through the hushed conversations, and even Munolfr could only shake his head as Herger rushed forward and engulfed Ahmed in a rough embrace that pulled the man off his feet. Both laughed together before Herger replaced his friend on his feet and thumped him on the shoulder with one hand. "It has been a long time my friend," he grinned.

"Far too long," Ahmed agreed. "It is good to see you."

"And I to see you. There is much that we need to discuss Little Brother. Much has happened," Herger told him.

"I can see that," Ahmed nodded toward the hallway the King had just entered. "How did you survive the rule of such a devious man?"

"Very carefully," Herger replied.

A loud commotion erupted in the Hall as two women entered from a hallway directly in from of them. A woman in a faded white dress walked proudly into the hall, her blue eyes twinkling in challenge, a woman in black following closely behind. The first's blonde hair was long and flowed freely down her back and partially covered her face, but nothing could hide the large purple bruises that covered most of the left side of her face. Her lip was swollen and cut, yet none of this took away from the obvious beauty of her small heart shaped face. The second woman was more demurely dressed, her dark brown tresses were tamed back in a severe braid, and her form was covered in black. Wise brown eyes surveyed the room guardedly, taking in those that remained.

Ahmed could feel his heart stop for several beats before it speed up. "Olga," he whispered softly.

Prince Munolfr moved over to greet Olga, his hands taking both of hers carefully, before he brought them both to his forehead. "Mother, the king has ordered you see to the meal for our men returned from a long voyage."

"Mother!" Ahmed exclaimed in surprise. "Then that would make her…"

"Like I said Little Brother, we have much to discuss," Herger answered, as all eyes centered on Olga, Venden's Queen.

* * *

Thanks to Kuhanten Frost, Battlecry100, DCoD, cynic teen, Neume Indil, KirijamaScion, Thorsten P. Ziegler, Sir Les, mary760, steph m., colleen carson, Hope and love, Bladed Thesis, manwithasqueegee, Thrif, THE DEADLY ANGEL, Ithilgwath and stix for your encouraging and wonderful reviews. I know this has been a LONG time coming! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I made it long to make up for the long wait. Please let me know what you think! Thanks and take care!


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